


A rip in time

by DestielsDestiny



Series: The Ones Who Are Always There [1]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Also bamf, Also hope, And also still an asshole, Cloak of Levitation (Marvel), Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, IronStrange Week May 2018, Maybe - Freeform, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Post-snap, Pre-Slash, Rocket is awesome, See post-Snap tag, Series, So does the whole planet really, Soul Stone (Marvel), Stephen Strange is bamf, Strange has a plan, Tony Stark Has Issues, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Wong is bamf, so is Tony, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-19
Updated: 2018-06-19
Packaged: 2019-05-25 10:26:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14975210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DestielsDestiny/pseuds/DestielsDestiny
Summary: Tony keeps rather odd company in his lab these days. Also, somewhere out there, there is a wizard who better have a darn good plan.





	A rip in time

**Author's Note:**

> For the IronStrange week 2018 prompt: Day 3 (5/16) : The Cloak of Levitation | Tony’s AIs and Bots.

Twhamp. Whirs should not be able to convey emotion. By their very nature, mechanical and inhuman, emotions should be a concept far out of reach of comprehension, never mind expression. 

But then, Tony is currently sharing a lab with a talking space racoon, staying up nights when he could be catching the odd hour of not-sleep to swap stories about their not-quite-theirs’ teenagers, for all that one produced webs and the other had leaves instead of hair. 

Those stories always begin with Tony refusing to open the bottle of whiskey gathering dust on a high shelf. They always end with Rocket patting Dummy absently, very much not looking in Tony’s direction. 

“I don’t know why we’re talking about this. It’s not like their actually dead or anything.” Tony sometimes manages a firm, “I know” in response to that.   
Sometimes he manages a nod. 

Most times, he just shuts his eyes until Rocket has wandered out of the lab, or passed out on a random square of semi-clear space. 

Tony squints blearily at the back of the lab. Judging from the angle, this time that semi-clear space was also obligated by an obliging ButterFingers, who was doing an excellent impression of a robotic statue. Except for his central claw, which, in the most delicate maneuver Tony had ever seen his uncoordinated bot perform, was carefully stroking along Rocket’s head. 

The not-a-space-racoon’s snuffling snores sounded oddly like purring with every revolution of the little guy’s pincers. Tony swallowed down a mouthful of…something. Definitely not contentment. 

Twhamp, T-wamp! The whirring was growing more insistent. Tony rolled his head towards it, taking in the sight of U hovering at his elbow, an inquiring tilt to its struts. 

Across the room, Dummy appears to be attempting to stealthily arrange a blanket over Rocket’s furry form, Butter Fingers awkwardly continuing to stroke the Guardian’s head. Tony snorts quietly. That always ends the same way, but damn if the little guy doesn’t keep right on trying anyway, night after night. 

He hadn’t made a list. 

Other people had, Steve, on a cramped stack of paper he carries everywhere, stuffed into pockets and held in a clenched fist at their daily, “So, the world ended…sorta” meetings. Bruce, in his head, whispered snatches leaving his lips only in the earliest hours of the morning, when his face tinted green and his movements grew tormented and restless. Natasha, cut into random walls with her knives.  
Shuri, painted etched into the Wakandan sky, coded into the very fabric of the new shielding matrix. The rest of the world, in cemetaries, funerals with too few people and no bodies to speak of, in newspaper columns and spray painted across buildings. Eventually, no doubt, in marble statues and brass plaques that will gleam awkwardly in the sun beside long faded memorials to people no know is around any longer to care about. 

Tony thought about it of course, making a list. From the moment he and Nebula hit earth’s atmo, the moment Friday dialed Pepper without being told, the moment it went straight to voicemail nineteen times in succession. He thought about making a list. 

Thought about it until he stood in the Parkers’ living room, weeks of dust drifting in moats through columns of late summer sun, not a sign of life in the place. 

So no, Tony doesn’t keep a list. Afterall, what’s the point of mourning, when there isn’t even enough people left to tell you how many other people you should be mourning for in the first place. 

_When I’m done, half of humanity will still exist. ___

__Twhamp-ump! Tony smiled, broken and jagged, “It’s okay buddy, I’ll be okay.” He patted U gently, carefully not thinking about how much Peter had loved the bots…  
As if called by an invisible force, Friday’s voice sounded abruptly in his ear, “Boss, a man calling himself Wong wishes to speak with you.” _ _

__Across the room, Dummy has almost succeeded in backing away from Rocket’s blanket covered form-“What the hell, will you stop that you pile of circuits?!” Dummy deftly swerved to avoid the thrown back blanket, somehow managing to convey an exasperated glare in Rocket’s direction. Tony’s impromptu lab buddy attempted to smooth down his ruffled fur at random, “Every bloody time…your kiddies are damned obnoxious, ya know that Stark.”_ _

__Despite his words, Rocket was already reaching out a consolatory paw to ButterFingers, who always managed to look devastated at the loss of his bunkmate. Tony hadn’t quite figured out it the droid thought Rocket was a giant cat Tony had gotten for them to play with, or their new best friend._ _

__Or both._ _

__Tony affected a glare, “No insulting my bots, Furball, or I’ll paint your claws again,” he redirected his voice to a lower volume, still absently patting U, “Tell him to call back later Fri-” His AI promptly cut him off mid-sentence._ _

__Tony blinked…Friday never did that, not like Jarvis used to—, “Boss, he says it’s about Dr. Strange.” Friday wasn’t Jarvis, and even on the days when that hurt worse than having his sternum sawed out while he was awake had, Tony has never let himself regret that. Every being he’s ever created is unique and beautiful in their own way after all. But damn if his little girl hasn’t had to grow up way too quickly._ _

__Only Jarvis used to know when to call him on his bullshit. Better even than Pepper-Tony cut the thought off, as Fri’s words began to sink in._ _

__He jerked up from the wall, his sudden urgency catching Rocket’s attention. “Patch him through Friday, right away!” The tone is brisk in his haste, but Friday isn’t quite bold enough to call him on it. Tony’s swallows down another choke into his throat, his left hand shaking so badly that U meeped with worry at the vibrations. Tony curled it into a lose fist ineffectually, patting his companion with his good hand, as a hologram appeared before his face._ _

__Wong looked…older. His face creased with more lines than Tony thinks he remembers. Because yes, he’d had other things on his mind at the time. And frankly, it was rather difficult to concentrate on anything except Stephen bloody Strange that day, especially after that stupid wink._ _

__And whatever attention Tony had to spare was focused squarely between Bruce and Petey, so._ _

__But still, he isn’t Tony frikking Stark for nothing, he has a rather large brain and contrary to what Peps used to say, he does notice things thanks. Admittedly, he notices more during Alien Invasions, but still, point._ _

__Tony swallows down a sob at the thought of Pepper, but he knows his voice will still crack, and his eyes, well, his eyes are always red these days. Everybody’s are.  
Including Wong’s, he notices absently. Behind Wong, the New York Sanctum looks like it’s seen better days, bits of wood and scorch marks scattered everyone. Tony feels fresh guilt rip through his gut. He should have checked. _ _

__Should have made that list._ _

__Wong nods at him, his expression as blank and steady as it ever was. It reminds Tony oddly of a certain Agent of Shield, one he hasn’t let himself think about in years.  
There are reasons he didn’t make a list. _ _

__“Stark.” No, it’s good to see you. But then, people greet each other one of two ways now. They either grab each other and sob or keep words to a bare minimum these days, and Tony never had many people who would think to sob over him in the first place._ _

__Tony nods back. “Wong, what brings you to my holographic teleconference?” There are some parts of himself that Tony refuses to let Thanos take. His snark being one of the surprisingly painful ones._ _

__Wong just looks at him for a long moment, and part of Tony wants to scream at him to get on with it._ _

__Another part wants him to stay like that forever, because he could let himself drown forever in the quiet calm of that expression. Nothing is calm anymore. Not really._ _

__Wong waited a beat more, then stepped closer to the feed, his hands clasped carefully behind his back. Tony thinks he can spot a brightly coloured cast beneath one of the burgundy red sleeves._ _

__“Stephen has found a way to make contact with me.” Tony carefully relaxes his semi-clenched fist, his left hand strangely steady as he made contact with Rocket’s shoulder, the Guardian coiled and ready at his side. In an instant, as if the electricity has ripped back into existence after a long power outage, everything in the room is alive with anticipation._ _

__Tony stares at Wong’s face, at the steady calm still detectable in every line of his body. At the utter lack of surprise on his face._ _

__He’s a giant purple alien and several disintegrated team mates past asking the obvious questions._ _

__“What did he say?” Wong’s face splits into a wide grin, so suddenly and so freely that Tony almost asks the man if he’s having a heart attack. Or a personality attack.  
The words, when they come, are somehow a complete and total not-surprise. _ _

__“That he has a plan.” Rocket hits Tony in his bad arm hard enough to knock him off balance._ _

__“Now that’s more like it! Knew Cape Guy would come through for us!” The bots all nod in agreement. Tony most decidedly does not glare at them, the traitorous piles of circuits._ _

__He settles for shooting the obnoxious racoon one instead. “How? None of you ever even met Strange!” The sarcasm drips off the words onto the floor. The hurt, the swallowed got to meet, now that stays firmly locked in Tony’s chest._ _

__He knew the doc for all of eleven hours in linear time, for fuck’s sake. And yes, he had worked that out in his head. And on paper, just to check. About a million or fourteen times._ _

__And no, his math was still never wrong._ _

__Rocket shot him a patient look, his tone surprisingly even. “Didn’t need to meet him, now did we. You talk about him all the frikkin time. That’s how we know he’s gonna come through for us. How I’ve always known. Cause you keep telling me he will!”_ _

__Wong was nodding sagely, damn him. “You should listen to your small friend Stark. He appears most wise.” Rocket’s indignant, “I ain’t small!” crashed into Tony’s equally strident, “We’re not friends!”_ _

__Wong chose that moment to disengage the call, but not before his broad, sudden laughter filled every corner of the lab with its unexpected echo._ _

__Tony blinked at empty space for a moment. Rocket turned to look at him slowly. They spoke in near perfect unison, “That’s what made him laugh?/What the heck was he laughing at!?”_ _

__Around them, the bots looked very confused. Friday sighed audibly above their heads._ _

__And Tony, well, Tony stared at empty air some more, and then, for the first time since Titan, perhaps even since Sokovia, he threw back his head, and laughed.  
Strange had a plan. Because of course he did. _ _

__00_ _

__Tony stared flatly at Wong. Wong stared flatly back. A scrap of fabric fluttered between them, impatiently tugging on Tony’s sleeve._ _

__“This is how the Doc got in touch? He sent a scrap of his Cape?” Wong nodded. “Through a rip in the dimensional fabric of reality, yes.” A beat, “And this is part of the Cloak of Levitation Stark, not a cape.” Said part of Cloak tugged more insistently, edging Tony closer to the honest to goodness rip of vertical nothingness pulsing in what appeared to pass for Strange’s living room._ _

__Tony dug his feet into the floor. “And what, he just expects me to hop on through,” Tony gestured at the rip helplessly, “…that and help him fix things? How? By waving our magic wands?” Wong stared at him some more. Then, “We do not have wands.” Tony just blinked. The Cloak scrap kept tugging. Wong sighed._ _

__“I do not know what Stephen is planning Stark. But I know the Cloak of Levitation is more loyal a companion than most men could ever dream of having. It would do anything for Stephen.”_ _

__Tony stared at the determined scrap of deep ruby fabric wrapping itself more securely around his good wrist. Even tear itself into pieces, apparently._ _

__Tony swallowed hard, visions of fragmented coding and broken orange lights filling his eyes with unbidden tears._ _

__He gazed at the rip. There are so many things he should do here, so many ways he should play this. Call Steve, tell Bruce, ask Shuri. Talk to what’s left of the UN even. Tell the bots. Apologize to Fri, for what he already knows he’s about to do._ _

__Because Tony may not have made a list, but he has spent the last few months trying to hold together a world that is already half gone. And when he’s not doing that, he’s been making plans._ _

__Dozens and dozens of plans._ _

___Tony…there was no other way. ____ _

____Tony stares at the rip of absent light for a long moment, feels the determination thrumming through the fabric scrap seeking a more steady purchase on his wrist. He curled his fingers obligingly into the fabric, meeting Wong’s knowing gaze with a decisive nod. “Guess I’m off to Oz then.” Wong does not smile. Not so much as a twitch. Tony finds it appropriately reassuring._ _ _ _

____“Good luck Stark.” The words hang in the air. Tony nods again, his thoughts for once laser focused._ _ _ _

_____Sorry Fri. Look after everybody for me. ____ _ _ _

______Tony clenches his fingers into a fistful of fabric, and allows his body to be dragged forward into the nothingness beyond._ _ _ _ _ _

______Strange’s plan had better be pretty damn awesome. Cause Pepper will never let him hear the end of this._ _ _ _ _ _

______And Tony’s looking forward to every damn minute of those no doubt infinite lectures._ _ _ _ _ _


End file.
